Insight
by sapphire-child
Summary: When Claire faints from the heat Charlie is the first one to her side. At first she seems grateful for his help but when she starts to get a little wary of his constant attention and he begins to realise that there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.


**Title:** Insight  
**Genre:** fluff, hurt/comfort, angst  
**Original Post Date:** 30/12/2007  
**Spoilers:** set during 1x05, White Rabbit but contains spoilers up to 1x08 Confidence Man  
**Summary:** When Claire faints from the heat, Charlie is the first one to her side. At first she seems grateful for his help but as the day goes on, she starts to get a little wary of his constant attention and he begins to realise that there's a lot more to her than first meets the eye.  
**Disclaimer:** Lost belongs to ABC, Bad Robot etc. and I stake no claim at all to it save for my DVD's and my 127 Lost fanfictions that I have written.

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A trickle of sweat ran down the back of his neck and Charlie slapped at it, annoyed at himself. What right did he have to sweat when the water supply was running so low? The sand, burning hot underneath him, probably wasn't helping matters he mused. At least he'd cut the sleeves off his shirt now – that had certainly helped him cope with the heat a bit better. He'd been bred in colder climes – his body just wasn't used to tropical bloody heat and tropical bloody sun and tropical bloody sand that got in BLOODY EVERYWHERE.

After scowling at the innocent white granules that had collected around his sweaty ankles, he pushed himself to his feet, brushing away a collection of flies with a shudder as he did so. This heat really was disgusting. He should find some shade before noon hit or he'd probably fry his brain out here in the middle of the beach. He was just thinking of trying to find someone to talk to – preferably someone who had a nice cool shelter he could share with them – when a blur of movement caught his eye.

Turning, still brushing sand from his sweaty palms, he saw a huge swell of stomach and a sparkle of blonde hair. Charlie grinned when he realised that Claire, the pregnant girl, seemed to be having trouble with the flies too. She was flapping her hands about with the enthusiasm of an overzealous music conductor. Blissfully unaware of his scrutiny she tottered several more steps before snatching her little bucket hat off her head and beginning to beat it around her face, shaking her blonde tresses impatiently and squinting up into the glaring sun.

Charlie almost laughed out loud – she looked completely ridiculous – before making up his mind to go over and chat to her. He'd spoken to her a few times since the crash and she'd been good company, sweet and shy but with a well hidden sense of humour that came out when you least expected it. He liked talking to her, making her smile…

She had a beautiful smile he remembered wistfully. Just as he began to walk over to her however, Claire gave a particularly violent swing with her hat and lost her balance, stumbling slightly. Charlie froze, still more than thirty paces from her, and then he watched in horror as she swayed drunkenly for a moment and then crumbled onto the burning sand.

He was off and running before she had even hit the ground. She was limp and pale against the sand, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her face when he dropped to his knees beside her and turned her face towards his. Her skin burned beneath his hand and for a long moment he simply knelt there, not even thinking as he stared at her pale face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he had to get her to shelter, get her water, but it wasn't until somebody slammed into the sand next to him that he even moved, he was so frozen by his horror.

"Is she okay? What happened man?"

Charlie turned desperately to the man beside him and it was a moment before he realised that it was the black man he'd met just the day before – Michael.

"She just fell over!" Charlie babbled. "She was standing there one second and then…"

"Yeah I saw you running," Michael cut in swiftly before turning to his son who was standing several paces behind him, eyes agog. "Walt! Go find Jack or whoever else you can. Tell them that the pregnant girl has passed out – we need help."

Walt merely nodded before bolting off.

"We should take her to Jack's tent," Michael said, immediately taking charge. Charlie mentally cursed himself for not coming to that conclusion himself. Wishing nothing more than to fix his previous mistakes, he scooped Claire into his arms and then with a tremendous effort he stood up…

And he promptly staggered under her weight, nearly dropping her.

"Lift with your legs not with your back!" Michael yelped. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that? Let me take her arms man," he grasped her upper body without waiting for Charlie to answer. "She'll be heavy with all that extra weight out the front."

"No kidding," Charlie puffed as they began to manhandle Claire towards Jack's tent. Her head flopped limply against Michael's arms and Charlie began to truly panic. What if she was really sick with sunstroke or something? And what if she'd hurt the baby or hit her head on something when she fell? Charlie felt dizzy with worry as he shuffled along sideways but then the sound of swift footsteps alerted him to the presence of another person joining them and then Kate's soft voice was addressing him urgently. "What happened?"

"I dunno," he yammered worriedly. "She just dropped!"

"Is she still breathing?" Kate

Oh God…Charlie hadn't even _thought_ to check her breathing. _Stupid stupid stupid_! As he silently berated himself, Michael answered Kate's question. "I think so."

"Come on let's get her inside," Kate ordered, holding back the tent flap so that Charlie and Michael could manoeuvre her pregnant bulk inside and set her down on the bed. Kate immediately pushed Charlie aside and began to touch Claire's face, calling her name. Michael was loosening the shoelaces on her Chucks. Charlie meanwhile sat on a cooler and had a silent panic attack.

And then Claire opened her eyes. She looked a little dazed as she looked up at Kate who was addressing her in a feverish voice, telling to keep calm. As Kate rambled, Claire's gaze drifted over to Charlie and her pale expression flickered. He was so engrossed in her light blue gaze that he almost fell off the cooler when Kate ordered him to get her some water.

"Water…"

_Christ, why didn't I think of that?_

Charlie scrambled to the other side of the tent and rummaged through the suitcases and cooler bags, panicking when they all proved to be empty.

"The waters gone!" he exclaimed, surprise quickly being replaced by a surge of anger. "Someone stole it!"

Kate and Michael stared at him for a moment, aghast, and then Kate fled the tent, yelling back at the two of them to watch Claire until she got back. Charlie rolled his eyes. She was almost too predictable sometimes, delegating the babysitting duties to other people and taking it upon herself to round up the troops for a war council. Michael blinked confusedly at Kate's retreat for a moment and then took to hovering awkwardly. Now that the crisis was over he didn't really have much to say to Charlie and vice versa. After storing Claire's shoes neatly in the corner and half heartedly re-checking the boxes and cases to make sure that there really wasn't a bottle of the precious liquid left, he muttered something about finding Walt and Charlie could look after Claire for a while couldn't he?

"Of course I can," Charlie said grimly. "It's my fault she fell anyway. I should have been there to catch her."

Michael eyed him quizzically. "What makes you say that?"

"I was on my way to go and chat to her," Charlie explained heavily, sitting down on the cooler next to Claire who was mumbling under her breath now, her eyes closed. "But I hesitated. If I hadn't bloody well hesitated then I might've been there in time and…"

"This wasn't your fault man," Michael interrupted him, looking unaccountably serious. "How could you have known that she was going to pass out?"

"Yeah," Charlie scratched his neck, embarrassed that Claire might be listening to this. Although, with the state she was in, he wasn't sure if she would remember it anyway. "You go find Walt. I'll stay here with Claire."

"Cool. Thanks man," Michael made his exit and Charlie sat and stared at Claire who seemed to be awake one moment and drifting the next. Seeing her like this, so completely helpless, unnerved Charlie more than he would care to admit. Vaguely he wondered how many people still had water and how much he could barter off them. Claire needed it after all – probably more than everyone else put together being as she was pregnant. On closer inspection, he could see her chapped lips and the pale, pinched look to her skin that meant that she was dehydrated.

She sighed suddenly, opening bleary eyes to find Charlie staring at her and she blinked at him.

"What…?" she murmured, her brow creasing faintly.

"You passed out," Charlie provided gently. "Just lie there quiet okay? Do you want anything?"

Claire licked her dry lips, struggling to speak and Charlie almost wished he hadn't offered to get her anything at all – if it meant that she was going to exhaust herself like this.

"Water," she croaked finally, every word seemed an effort. "Some…I need…water…"

And with that, she drifted off again. Charlie dropped off his vantage point on the cooler and knelt beside her, touching her wrist gently. Her pulse fluttered gently against his fingertips and he sighed 

in relief. She would be okay if he went off for a little while – if she was sleeping or unconscious or whatever she was then she would be okay.

"I'm gonna go get you some water okay?" he murmured. Then he paused to brush an unruly strand of blonde hair back from her face, surprising even himself with tenderness of the gesture. "You just stay here and have a bit of a sleep. I'll be back soon I promise. I'm going to get you some water."

Claire made no response and so Charlie stood, his hand lingering at her wrist for as long as he could before pushing his way out of the tent, fully prepared to ask every single person in the camp for some of their water.

Half an hour later he returned to Jack's tent and to Claire with little more than a mouthful. Shame burned behind his eyes as he offered the pitifully empty container to her. Claire drank greedily from it before collapsing back again, exhausted.

"You just relax," Charlie said for the umpteenth time that day. "You need to think about the little one yeah?"

Claire nodded, absently rubbing her stomach as Charlie turned the makeshift cup in his hands over and over. "Thanks for the water Charlie," she murmured. Charlie grimaced at her thanks and stood to discard of the empty water vessel he carried. If he had been smart, he thought bracingly, he would've grabbed one of the remaining water bottles while he had the chance and Claire could've had the entire thing.

"There'd be more if some git hadn't nicked it," he said bitterly.

Claire, obviously sensing his discomfort, tried to change the subject.

"Is Jack back yet?"

"No," Charlie came to stand by the door to the shelter. The beach camp seemed almost deserted. Everyone had been told to lie low, to conserve their energy. Charlie was the only one who hadn't obeyed – keeping Claire alive had been more important to him than his own raging thirst. "No one's seen him."

A long silence followed. Charlie turned back to Claire, wondering why she wasn't speaking until he saw the downcast look on her face, the fear behind her eyes. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy for her. Being eight months pregnant was hard enough in civilisation – being on an island where there was only one doctor and knowing that he had disappeared must be terrifying.

"But I wouldn't worry," he said swiftly, taking a seat on the cooler like he had done earlier in the day and gazing reassuringly at her. "Good old Mr. Locke's gone out into the jungle to get some more water for you."

"Great," Claire snorted, but she lacked the energy to have any real fire behind the words. "Our only hunter's gonna get _eaten_ just so he can get the pregnant girl some more water."

"Well I wouldn't worry love," Charlie said, picking at the bandages around his fingers as he spoke, Claire listening intently to him – so intently in fact that he was honestly surprised. Most people around here were loathe to give him the time of day. "I mean," he continued, pleased. "Who would you rather meet in a dark alley? Whatever's out there – or that geezer with his four hundred 

knives?" Claire laughed at that and Charlie, encouraged, pressed on. "I mean who packs _four hundred knives_? I personally can only have space for two hundred, three hundred at most."

Claire lapsed into breathless giggles and Charlie ducked his head as he too joined in with her laughter – trying to hide the dull flush that was suffusing his cheeks. It seemed so easy to make Claire laughed, and it always made his insides squirm pleasurably when she smiled at him. After a long moment of companionable silence, Claire's smile faded however and she looked immeasurably sad.

"When are we gonna get rescued?" she murmured quietly.

Charlie's stomach clenched at the thought of lying to her, but the truth was – he'd already started to give up on being rescued – ever since he'd heard the French woman's transmission up on the mountainside. He could tell that several of the others felt the same. But looking into Claire's sad blue eyes, he couldn't bear to tell her the truth – she needed some hope to hang onto, they all did.

"Soon," he lied, smiling tightly.

Claire smiled back a little and then she did something he hadn't been expecting and thanked him.

Charlie blinked, taken aback. "For what?"

"People don't…seem to look me in the eye here," she explained slowly, her voice scratchy but no less endearing. "I think I scare them. The baby…" she put a protective hand on her stomach before continuing. "It's like I'm this time bomb of responsibility just waiting to go off." She looked away from him then, embarrassed, but Charlie found himself nodding along with her. He'd noticed people avoiding her and always wondered why – she was a gorgeous girl, funny and great to talk to. But of course, there was the glaringly big downside of her unborn baby. Who would want to be lumbered with helping her out with the thing if she had it here?

I would, Charlie thought, surprising himself. I'd help her take care of it and not feel an inch of remorse. I like this girl and if she comes with a baby in tow then…well why should that stop me being friends with her?

He nodded, half-smiling to himself and then leant forward to Claire conspirationally. "You don't scare me," he admitted. Claire looked up at him slowly, disbelievingly.

And then she smiled at him.

Charlie smiled back, feeling unbelievably giddy. _He _had made her smile like that – Charlie Pace, a no good, worthless heroin junkie had made someone feel better about themselves, like they belonged.

Like they had a friend.

Claire yawned suddenly and Charlie felt guilty again for keeping her up.

"Do you want to sleep again?" he asked. "Because I can go if…"

"No," Claire said firmly, but there was a pleading note to her voice. "Please stay Charlie. You're the only person I've had a halfway decent conversation with here."

Charlie swelled with pride. "Okay," he promised. "I'll stay. Do you want anything else? Something to eat?"

"Well apart from more water which is non existent," Claire chuckled to let Charlie know that she wasn't upset with him for not finding her enough. "Um…a blanket maybe? It's getting a bit cold in here."

"I'm right on it," Charlie pushed himself to his feet. "I'll see if I can find you a decent blanket too, not one of those crappy Oceanic ones."

Claire chuckled. "Thank you. You're sweet."

"I do try," Charlie conceded, giving her a lopsided grin before pushing his way out into the glaring sunlight.

He blinked for a moment in the harsh brilliance of the afternoon sun. It was finally on its way down – it had already passed it's zenith in the sky and soon enough it would be nightfall. Claire must be very sensitive to the temperature if she could already sense it dropping Charlie thought, amazed. This thought spurred him to step forth urgently, to find the piles of unclaimed clothing and various other things that had been amassed from the luggage.

It took him hours of searching to find anything halfway decent. He was loathe to bring her a plane blanket – they were thin and scratchy at the best of times. Just when he had almost given up on ever finding anything halfway decent however, the back of his hand brushed something soft and from under a pile of shoes he pulled out a fleece rug decorated in reds, greens and browns – zigzags and animal silhouettes made up the recurring motifs on it. Exultant, he wrapped it around his shoulders and almost immediately began to melt from the heat.

Perfect.

Claire was asleep again when he came back, her mouth slightly open as she dozed fitfully against the pillow, her hand curled up next to her face. After laying the rug over her and tucking it in carefully around her body, Charlie took up his previous spot on the empty cooler box, a silent sentinel. But Claire slept for only another fifteen minutes before she woke up again, rubbed her eyes and then felt the blanket on her and she smiled.

"You found me a blanket," she said sleepily, gazing up at Charlie, blinking slowly.

"I did," Charlie smiled down at her."Do you like it?"

"It's great," Claire snuggled down even more comfortably beneath it and then asked, "How long have you been there?"

"About an hour and a half," Charlie said and Claire looked shocked.

"What for?"

Charlie blinked. "I was just…watching. You know, to make sure you were okay."

"Oh," Claire said warily. "Charlie that's very sweet of you but I'm okay now. I think I just need to rest."

"You're…sure?" he said uncertainly, not really understanding why she was asking him to leave when she had previously been so pleased at his presence. "Because I can stay if…?"

"No, no," Claire protested. "I'll just be sleeping anyway and I'm sure you've got your own stuff to do."

_Not really_, Charlie wanted to say but he rose obediently to his feet nonetheless.

"Okay," he mumbled, his hands in his pockets. "Well…if you need anything…"

"You will be the first person that I call," Claire promised, smiling tiredly. She seemed a good deal happier now that Charlie had agreed to leave. Charlie tried to ignore the stinging pain that was accompanying the echo of her words in his mind. She wanted him to leave her alone, to let her rest. She didn't want him to stay with her.

If it had been anybody else, Charlie would have just rolled his eyes and left, thinking nothing of it. So why the hell did it hurt so much with Claire?

"Okay," he said quietly. "I guess I'll…see you later."

"I'm sorry for wasting so much of your time," Claire said, sighing as she shut her eyes. "It was selfish of me to make you stay – to ask you to do things for me."

"You're not a waste of time," Charlie said softly and Claire's eyes fluttered open again. "And you're not selfish. I enjoy doing things for you."

Claire regarded him silently for a moment and then her mouth smiled but her eyes were far away when she spoke.

"Thanks for the blanket Charlie."

"You're welcome luv," he said quietly and then he left the tent, his mind buzzing with confusion.

Charlie had always thrived on recognition – it was what made him so eager to please. It was also part of the reason why he had simultaneously loved and hated being a celebrity. He sickened himself sometimes, the extent to which he would go to please everybody and yet he couldn't stop himself from yearning for people to notice him, to ask for his help on whatever project they might be working on.

Claire didn't seem to want him to prove himself to her. If he was honest with himself, it seemed that she probably would have settled for help from anybody and he just happened to be the person who was in the right place at the right time. She seemed to like talking to him though, and after everything he'd said, everything that he'd done for her today alone...

Did she just not like him? The thought made him deflate a little but then he looked rationally at the facts. She seemed to enjoy his company – she laughed at his jokes, they could slip into an easy banter with no problems at all. So why the hell did she ask him to leave?

Charlie put his head between his hands and squeezed his temples hard.

Normally he was pretty good at reading girls – but Claire? He'd be having a conversation with her – a fantastic conversation – and then for no apparent reason it would just dwindle and die and she'd want to be alone. It was frustrating to say the least. Despite himself and for reasons unknown, he wanted to know more about her and she kept on shutting him out and pushing him away whenever he got too close.

Charlie sighed and pushed himself to his feet. It would be getting dark in a few hours and in that time he had to somehow rustle up some food for himself or he'd go hungry. Grudgingly he decided that he really ought to find something for Claire as well – being as she was so exhausted that she was currently confined to bed. It was the decent thing to do. And maybe when he brought it to her he could try talking to her again? Just the thought made his brain hurt but he grimly set about his task anyway, wondering when exactly his life had started revolving around a girl he'd met completely by chance on the first night after the crash.

As he foraged, Charlie began to sweat – and not just from the heat. He'd been alright for most of the day with withdrawal but now it was beginning to niggle at him, like someone constantly tugging on his sleeve, whining for his attention. Not wanting Claire to see him when he was high off his brain or freaking out within his withdrawal, Charlie paused in his foraging to sneak into the jungle and have a small hit. Once the worst of the high had worn off he continued about his business, albeit a little calmer than before.

Claire was asleep again when Charlie came to her with his meagre offering of food. He pondered for a moment the idea of maybe waking her up – she needed to eat after all – and then decided that waking her would be a selfish act on his part. He really just wanted to talk to her again. Despondently, he set the makeshift plate on the cooler he'd sat on earlier and then turned hesitantly to assess Claire's condition before he left.

She still looked pallid and tired but at least she'd gotten plenty of rest today. Being careful not to wake her, he touched the inside of her wrist like he had earlier and breathed a sigh of relief when her pulse met his fingertips, stronger than it had been all day.

He left her there while he ate his dinner and then – unable to help himself – he returned to check on her again. In his mind he imagined her lying there in Jack's tent, awake and starved for conversation. Maybe she would be too tired still to reach over and get her food so he would have to hand it to her...he mentally slapped himself at this point, trying to stop himself from getting carried away with daydreams of playing the part of the knight in shining armour.

_You're a drug addict Charlie – there's not a chivalrous bone in your body and you're certainly not a bloody nursemaid. What the hell are you thinking – going back to her again so soon?_

When he arrived at the tent and pulled back the flap, Charlie stared for a moment at the scene before him. Boone had beaten him to Claire – he was kneeling beside her, holding a bottle of water tenderly to her lips. Charlie was livid with anger at the way he was acting with Claire – who the hell did he think he was? And then he noticed that there was not just one bottle in his possession – but three.

Grasping Boone firmly by the back of his shirt, Charlie hauled him to his feet.

"Where'd you get that?" he hissed dangerously. Boone merely stared at him, all wide innocent eyes.

"Charlie…" came Claire's feeble voice but Charlie ignored her and dragged Boone bodily from the tent.

"Oi!" he yelled out into the night. "Boone stole the water!"

Almost immediately a crowd began to flocking towards him. Charlie shoved Boone hard in the back and the younger man went down face first in the sand.

"Here's your thief!" Charlie snapped, eyeing Boone up aggressively.

"Where'd he hide it?" Michael asked as he ran up with his son.

"I dunno," Charlie said bitterly, watching as Boone struggled to his feet. "This wanker had three bottles on him!" he stepped up close to him, getting right in his face. Boone flinched back and Charlie felt a savage pleasure that he was scaring him. "Why'd you do it pretty boy?" he demanded of him. "Eh?"

"It was just…sitting in the tent!" Boone said defensively. "And Jack just took off…"

"Claire could've _died_!" Charlie yelled, surprising himself with the depth of feeling in his words.

"I tried to give her some sooner," Boone said, appealing to the group now. "But it just got out of hand! No one would've understood…"

"What is going on?" Kate's angry voice sounded clear over the top of the muttering and whispering but Charlie only had eyes for Boone – the idiot who had nearly cost Claire's life, who had endangered her baby, who hadn't even thought about what the consequences might've been…

"Someone had to take responsibility for it," Boone was saying now, breathless. "It would've never lasted!"

Charlie snapped.

He didn't even stop to think. He rushed at Boone, shoving him violently in the chest and roaring at him to shut up. There was a moment of scuffling in which Charlie found himself being pushed and pulled by more than one set of hands and then a strong voice broke over the scene and everyone froze.

It was Jack.

"It's been six days," he said profoundly. The group stayed silent and still, stunned at his sudden reappearance. "And we're all still waiting. Waiting for someone to come. But what if they don't?"

He stepped forwards into the circle of survivors and Charlie shrank back into the circle, sulkily allowing him to take the floor.

"We have to stop waiting," Jack continued, his voice growing stronger as he went on. "We need to start figuring things out. A woman died this morning just going for a swim!" he gestured at Boone and turned a sharp glare onto Charlie. "And he tried to save her, and now you're about to crucify him?"

Charlie dropped his eyes – but it wasn't because he felt guilty for attacking Boone. It was because he was still _angry_ and he didn't want anyone to see it. Yeah he knew that Boone had tried to save someone this morning – he'd been the one to raise the alarm after all – and in the end hadn't he failed? Hadn't Jack ended up saving him instead of Joanna? If he hadn't been such a bloody hero then Joanna might still be alive and Claire wouldn't be so dehydrated that she could barely move.

How had everything turned on its head like this? Boone was responsible for a death and he got a pat on the back for 'trying' whilst Charlie had been running around in the blistering heat all day, trying to find nonexistent water for a sick pregnant girl and he got a rap on the knuckles?

"Now I found water – fresh water – up in the valley," Jack was saying. Charlie pricked up his ears at the word water and tuned back in again. "I'll take a group in at first light. If you don't wanna come, then find another way to contribute! Last week, most of us were strangers – but we're all here now and God knows how long we're gonna be here! But if we can't live together…" he paused and shook his head. "We're gonna die alone."

The water was recovered almost immediately from Boone's luggage and divvied up between the survivors by Hurley. The survivors all drank their ration of water eagerly and then drifted off to their respective sleeping places, buzzing about the idea of finding fresh water. Jack had graciously allowed Claire to stay the night in his tent so that she didn't have to move and to continue the trend of everyone bossing him around, Jack had requested that Charlie go and get her some water while he caught himself up on the day's events from Kate.

"I was going to anyway," Charlie had muttered mutinously as he left the tent. "And who says that I can't tell you what's been happening? Git…"

He returned to the tent feeling a lot calmer than he had before, but he certainly wasn't prepared for the image of Claire sitting, propped up against a cushion, scowling down at where her hands were resting on her stomach.

"Hey," he said carefully. "Are you okay?"

Claire looked up at him, still frowning.

"Why were you so mean to Boone before?" she said, looking genuinely upset. "He was only trying to help me."

"Well maybe if he hadn't hidden the water in the first place he wouldn't have needed to," Charlie muttered unhappily, passing her a makeshift cup. Claire took it and drank quickly whilst Charlie sipped his own more slowly. "I'm sorry if it upset you."

Claire scoffed and slammed the empty cup angrily down in the sand next to her before crossing her arms again. "Sure you are."

"I am sorry," Charlie said earnestly. "I was just…I was worried about you today is all. I thought that you might be too dehydrated and that it'd hurt you and the baby. I thought you might get sick."

Claire stared at him for a moment and then she sighed and her demeanor softened.

"I'm sorry I was angry at you," she said finally. "I knew you were worried – I guess I just didn't realise how much."

Charlie smiled grimly at her. "You're okay – that's the main thing I'm concerned with. I probably should have just let Boone be."

Claire smiled slightly. "Well a girl is always pleased to know that she's worth fighting someone over. I just hope you don't make a habit out of it."

The two of them grinned at each other for a moment and then Charlie stood.

"I should let you sleep," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You're going to bed?" Claire asked, surprised. "Can't you stay for a little longer and talk to me? I've been sleeping all day so I'm not really all that tired…"

It was nearly two in the morning by Charlie's watch by the time he got to bed. His lack of sleep did nothing to help his withdrawal symptoms the next day while he was out with Jack, Kate and Locke but his memories of the conversation he'd had with Claire that night helped to tide him over when his drugs were finally taken away and he began to go through the worst withdrawal he'd ever experienced. The memory of her smile, of her laughter through the darkness was enough to keep him sane just long enough to survive the night.

When he got up in the morning, his first thought was of her and how weak she'd been when she'd been dehydrated the other day (had it only been two days since he'd seen her last? It seemed like an age). When he came to her with not one but two bottles of precious water, her face lit up and they grinned at each other, sharing a secret joke that nobody else but them would ever be able to share in.

She was still an enigma – Charlie for the life of him couldn't figure out why Claire wanted to stay on the hot, sandy beach in lieu of the cool, leafy sanctuary of the caves – but at least now, he had a little insight into what she was all about.


End file.
